


An Urge to be Seen

by Haunted_E_L



Category: (Don't) Open Your Eyes (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, F/M, Monster porn, Teratophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21915667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunted_E_L/pseuds/Haunted_E_L
Summary: Something enters your room, and makes polite, disturbing conversation with you. Even while straddling you.
Relationships: Monster/Reader
Comments: 22
Kudos: 663





	An Urge to be Seen

**Author's Note:**

> Did I sit down with an hour long walk-through of this asmr horror game and type out nearly all of the dialogue, just so I could write some weird porn? Yeah.  
> And if the formatting is weird at all, it's cause I'm not only posting from my phone, but I also haven't posted anything on ao3 in literal years lol

After a fairly uneventful day, the sun sets, and you decided to call it a night. You strip down to a comfortable amount of clothing, switch on your fan, then curled up under the covers.

Maybe only 15 minutes later, you hear footsteps come through your doorway, barely audible over your fan. You keep your eyes shut, and they approach you. You thought, maybe you were just being robbed, and they would leave if you didn't appear awake. Then, you knew you weren't being robbed. You hear them crouch beside your bed and feel them lay their arms over your legs.

"... Hey." He whispers, "Open… your eyes."

You refused, your throat dry and tight with fear.

He asks again, and you stay still, only moving as you breathe.

"Look at me. Why won't you look at me? Where are your manners?" He pauses between each sentence for an uncomfortably long time.

"If a stranger asks for help… is it right to ignore them? Is that how it is?"

You feel him breathing over your ear. His breath was cold.

"I will share… a secret with you. I have never seen myself before. I don't know if my face is ugly. I don't know the colour of my skin. I don't even know if I'm here. That's why I need you to  _ open your eyes _ . So you can tell me how I look. But, I'm also shy. So I might hide the moment you do. Soon, you might forget, like a faded dream." He spoke directly into your ear, brushing against it with his lips.

"I know you're not asleep."

You squeeze your eyes shut even tighter than before.

"I know you're listening, with those tiny ears of yours. They look so fragile. Like I could almost grab them." He touches your ear, running his fingers around the curves of it.

"Put my fingers around them… and tear them off…"

You couldn't move, as if something forced you to remain still under your sheets.

"Would you scream? Will I hear your voice?" He pauses for a long time.

"It was a joke. I'm joking. Don't be scared." He says, gently, moving his arms over your legs.

"... Hey. How do you think my eyes… look? Answer me." His breath shakes. You feel it on your cheek, as if he were desperately looking at your eyelids, in search of  _ your _ eyes.

"They look… empty?" He asks, hearing a voice from inside of you.

"That may be so. The eyes are the window to the soul. That's what someone told me, long ago. They told me, the soul is holy. Bright. Beautiful." He caresses your cheeks, thumbs rolling over top of your eyelids.

"That person said that something like me couldn't possibly own something so holy. So beautiful. They looked inside of me, and announced their conclusion. Their eyes, their eyes that could see it all, couldn't find anything in there. If you cut me up, not even blood would flow out. Even though I feel it sometimes, crawling through my veins." He runs his hands down your arms, stopping cruelly at her wrists, drawing lines over them with his fingers.

"Maybe that's why I've never seen myself before? Because I'm empty? But isn't that something to be grateful for? Because if I were to look and find nothing there, I would surely be disappointed. So maybe this is for the best?" He moves his hands up and down your arms. Then stops.

"... Hey. Have you ever felt so empty, so devoid of what makes everyone special, that you've embraced the void as your own?" He grabs your waist, and you feel two legs fall distinctly on either side of you.

"Have you?"

You can't say.

"These eyes…" the voice asks from above you, "are these my eyes?"

He freezes.

"Good answer." He mumbled.

"Yet, there is only one way to know the truth. Open… your eyes." He says, leaning close to your face.

You refused.

"So you won't look at me? Even though your eyes are so… pretty. I can't see them, but I can imagine them, behind that veil of flesh. Round… like pearls… shiny… like jewels. So, so pretty." He breathes against your eyes, slowly grinding against you through the blankets.

"It's fine." He sighs, disappointed that you wouldn't open your  _ eyes _ , "We still have time. The night is still. And silent." He breathes heavily above you.

"People are good at closing their doors. Do you know… what a door is? Of course you know. You have one. Right there. At the verge of your little world. The door is there to keep the bad out. A bad person. A bad spell. Me. I can't open doors. Should I push?" He moves his hips forward.

"Should I pull?" He moves them backwards.

"Should I turn the knob left, or right?" He moves his hips side to side.

"Should I take the door off its hinges?" He lifts himself up and pulls back the blanket.

"Should I chip away at it, hoping it will fall apart?" He presses himself against your underwear, that being the only thing that separated you now.

"And what happens… when it opens?" He forces your legs apart with his own, "Do I, close it behind me? Do I keep it open? That may be rude to the person who had it closed. But then… how do I get out? So many options… so many things that could go wrong…" He pushes your legs back together.

"What bothers me most about closed doors is that they exist… to keep me out. It fills me with the need to enter. So I search for a crevice." He touches your own… crevice, then pulls away quickly.

"Or a window. Anything that might let me in. I'm not good with doors, but as long as there's a place I can fit, then I can get inside anywhere." He doesn't talk for a long time after that, seemingly waiting.

"Sometimes… an  _ urge _ swells inside of me. An urge... to be  _ seen _ . So I search hard for a door that's open. For an entryway, covered in darkness. And for someone to be at the other end, awake, expecting me. But you won't look at me. Even though you had your door open for visitors. Why is that?" His hands grab each side of your head, and all you can do is listen. You can't answer. You can breathe, and  _ hear _ .

"Are you… afraid? Do I… scare you? No… that can't be it. We've been chatting for so long. You haven't chased me out. That means… you welcome me. So I'm certain that if I reach out my hand. You would reciprocate and grasp it." He took each of your hands and intertwined his fingers with yours.

"You are warm. People are… always warm. Hey. How do my hands… look? As our warmth meets, how does it feel? Answer me." His voice quivers with excitement.

"They look… tired?" He pauses, thinking, and not talking.

"That may be so. These fingers of mine have touched  _ so many things _ ." He slides them under your waist band, and stretches it.

"They are always stretching forwards. Reaching out for… something. Be it the first spring flowers… or the roughness of a wall, made out of rubbish. Caressing, grabbing, clawing." He groped and clawed at your thighs, and you moved for the first time, albeit only slightly. Your hips moved under the sensations.

"No matter the type of day. No matter if I'm awake or asleep. As if they have a mind of their own. Even now, they clutch onto the flesh of your body. They like how these thousands of cells bind together. The rustle of skin against skin is… irresistible." His hands move along your thighs, and his thumbs slide along the inside of them.

"They want more. They want to feel… closer." He pulls away your underwear, the fabric bunching and folding.

"To have it between them and around them… more and more and more." He touches your labia, pulling at it and holding it between the bases of his fingers.

"Sometimes, however, they can't reach as far as they'd like. That's when I… lend a hand. I take over and stretch, stretch, stretch-" He pushed his fingers inside of you, and when he couldn't anymore, you feel them continue.

"And they grow… just the length of a fingernail each time. But they grow. Just so they can reach out and clutch what they want." He moves them inside of you, forcing your breath to be unsteady.

"That's why they are tired. Because they never stop seeking. And most likely… never will." He leans down, his fingers still writhing inside of you.

"Hey. Have you ever stretched your fingers to grab ahold of something important? Only to learn that it's been long out of your grasp? Have you?"

You cannot answer, only pant while being pleasured.

"Are these… my hands?"

You can't speak.

"A good answer. Yet, there is only one way to know the truth.  _ Open _ …  _ your eyes. _ " He demands, feverishly. But you can't. Maybe you would, were it in your power.

"So you won't look at me. Even though my hands, could be the same as yours. Think about it… maybe you and I are similar? No, I know we are. I can feel it. In my skin." He pulls his fingers out of you and leans back.

"Oh. Can you hear it? My skin is…  _ pulsating. _ It has been long since this happened. It's a sign of my innermost emotions flowing out." You feel something round, something swollen, prod at you.

"I wander the world, wanting to be seen. I'll be satisfied as long as someone tells me how I look. But… it's not like anyone will do. If it did, then it would be  _ oh so _ easy. Since I could show myself to everyone at once. Every living person in this land. And ask them all the same question. Someone will answer, there's no doubt about it. But it might not be the answer I wish for. Since I don't want to be judged. I don't want to be perceived as something I'm not. It scares me. That is why, when someone is on the verge of looking at me… I shy away. I fade into the dark. But you, might be different. If it's you… it might be possible to stand still, if only for a second. That way you can help me. And we can both be fulfilled." He finally slides into you. It burned as it stretched you open. His breath shook, and he remained still.

"Ahh, just thinking about it… it makes me feel… feel…  _ something _ . I cannot describe it." He pushes his hips forward, and pulls them back. You were unknowingly wet, making it easy for him to move inside of you. His member seemed to move on its own as well, writhing as his fingers did, twitching against your walls.

He pulls out.

"I am not good... with words. There was a person in my past who taught me to speak like a person. They were not good at it either. And thinking back on it… they certainly didn't enjoy it. To teach a wordless being how to talk must be a challenge. Yet, they did it. Simply because they could." As he indulged you on his past, his organ continued to writhe, touching you in pleasurable ways.

"It is weird to remember. Because it makes me think of why I want to be seen. And I am not… sure. I don't care much for my appearance. I don't want to be judged. But if that were it, I could easily stay out of sight. So why is it- why do I want someone to recognize me so much? Maybe it's because everyone gets recognized… but me. But I will… soon." He slides back into you. He was a texture that was similar to skin, but not quite. It was off-putting, but not displeasing.

"Once you open your eyes." He says, breathlessly.

"Ahh, there it is again. Just thinking about the moment you unveil your sight onto me… and you inspect every crevice of mine. And you finally, finally,  _ finally _ open those tight lips of yours." He whimpers.

"To let me hear… what I am. And to maybe… give me a name." His hips move in an erratic, circular pattern, a familiar feeling of desperation.

"It makes me feel. But I don't know what. Surely it would be evident… if you were to look at my face." After one last frantic movement, he pulls out again, leaving you clenching around nothing.

"...Hey. What does my expression look like? When that veil of uncertainty finally disappears, what will we convey to each other? Answer me." He grips your shoulders.

"A surprised… grimace?" He ponders.

"That may be so. Tonight is the first I hear about my eyes. Or my hands. And the new and unexpected are always a source of surprise." He pushes into you again and continues talking.

"People always act surprised when I show myself before them, so it makes sense that my appearance would surprise me as well. At times, they stop moving, merely looking at me in awe. And others, they scream… and run, and exhaust themselves to the point they can't  _ think _ . Others, they don't feel much at all. They sit, and stay, and attempt to talk. I don't like when they do that. It's like they are not… seeing me. Not… recognizing me. I much prefer when they freeze. I much prefer when they scream. A reaction is what I want. It's a sign that I am there… and that my existence means something to them. That's why I like you. You did not scream, yet you did not run either. You were surprised and averted your eyes. But instead, you stayed. Listening. Acknowledging. You were the first to do this to me. You are new and unexpected." While thrusting into you with his short and irregular movements, he still manages to ponder, and ramble. The squirming inside of you made profane noises that filled the empty bedroom.

"Yet… how odd. Is this really surprise? No… you say it is so it must be true. But what I'm feeling right now... What im experiencing, it's not the same as those who have seen me. As if their surprise, was something different from mine." He pulls out again, leaving your thighs shaking for more.

"This expression… is this my expression? I see. Thank you. You have truly helped me tonight. These… are my eyes. These… are my hands… and this… is my expression. I consider these my most treasured features. And you have helped me picture them all. No one has ever done this for me. I feel… a connection with you. One born out of honest gratitude." He slides his member into you once again. It twists as he thrusts.

"But there's one step left. You need to make sure of the truth. It is the only way to finally understand each other. So please." He pants, "I beg of you. Open your eyes."

This time, you do. You can open your eyes. You can move your body. You look up and see him, a shape in the darkness that you can barely make out. He leans forward and you look into his eyes. His large, piercing eyes bore into yours. His mouth, open, exposed his odd teeth and slick tongue. His hands held you in place. You reach up and touch his face, which gets him excited.

"Finally, finally, finally." He pants, speeding up and slapping against you.

"You… see me. You… love me." He slurs. You cry out as it becomes intense.

"I like this reaction… the most." He says against your mouth, just before sliding his tapered tongue into it. He closes his lips around yours, but you couldn't feel that he had any. The skin around his teeth was tight.

He pulls away from your face quickly, then grabs your hips and lifts them up. The new angle hit you in overwhelming places, and you mumble things to him as he swirls inside of you.

"You're beautiful." You say, "You're so, so beautiful. Yes.  _ Yes. _ "

Your comments excited him further, and he buried his face in your neck. He thrust in and out of you faster and faster, and at last your hips stutter in his hands as you reach your climax. You wrap your arms around him, feeling his spine protruding from his calloused back. He continues for only a few seconds longer before whimpering against your throat and shooting something against your walls. The sounds he made were inhuman, but you had no doubts that he wasn't human. He runs his hands up and down your body before sitting up.

"Thank you…." He says.


End file.
